Critical Path

A surge of anger flowed through Layla. That bastard! “No,” she said forcibly, making Maria step back a few inches. “Don’t you ever let him touch you if you don’t want him to. That goes for anyone, in fact. He’s a damned liar. Trust nothing he says, you hear me?”

With wide eyes, Maria nodded. “I do… thanks, Layla. Don’t leave me with him, will you?”

Hugging her close, Layla forced away the images she had conjured of what she would do to Gregor if ever… “No, girl, I won’t. But keep this on you at all times, even when you’re sleeping.”

Layla handed her a small Taser she and Mike had developed from the high-capacity battery cells from the harvesters. “One blast of that in the right place will do the job.”

Maria pocketed the palm-sized black device and smiled, no doubt the thought of zapping Gregor bringing her happy thoughts. “Come on, let’s go meet the others. It’s time to find out if Venrick is telling the truth.”

CHAPTER SIX

Charlie gritted his teeth and yanked down on the chain attached to his rusty manacles. Specks of mortar dropped in his eyes as the links pulled rigid. It wasn’t coming loose. He decided instead to conserve his energy for the arena and leaned against the cold stone wall and thought about what Augustus had in store for him.

The Roman had mentioned something about a special surprise.

It certainly wasn’t going to be anything good, that’s for sure.

His cellmate, a small croatoan wearing a standard alien dark gray uniform, hung from manacles on the opposite wall. Its legs were too short to reach the dirt floor. It had desperately grunted, clicked and kicked its skinny legs for the past two hours, but now it had given up and dangled limply, letting out a quiet, desperate keening noise.

A key rattled in the cell door’s lock. A bolt screeched across its latch outside. The croatoan raised its helmet. Charlie tensed.

The thick wooden door creaked open and Augustus strode in, flanked by two men dressed in faded blue jeans and brown leather jackets. Both held rifles. Augustus pointed to the alien. “This one’s first. Take it down and get it ready.”

One of the men slung his rifle and pulled out a wrench while the other provided cover, aiming his weapon at the alien. The guard unscrewed the croatoan’s left manacle. It aimed a weak kick. The man punched it in the stomach.

“Save it for outside. You’re going to need everything you’ve got,” the other guard said with a sneer.

The alien wheezed and shook. It dropped to its feet and scampered into a corner after its right wrist was freed. Both men grabbed an arm each and dragged it out of the cell.

Augustus turned to Charlie and placed his hand in a flap down the side of his purple robe, briefly fumbled and produced a dried piece of root. “This might help you. Your only way out of here is to keep winning.”

Charlie turned his head and looked away. “Fuck you. Like I’m going to accept your help after all this. You take me for a fool? Have you learned nothing about humanity in your time?”

Augustus just shrugged as a faint buzz echoed along the corridor: the noise of a crowd, hundreds of chanting voices. Charlie only saw the outside of the arena when being led at gunpoint from Augustus’ ludus to the attached cells. A four-yard-high stone wall surrounded the fighting area with staircases cut in at regular intervals.

An escape plan would have to be winged—if it were at all possible.

Augustus reached forward and pressed the root into Charlie’s hand. “Hate me all you want; the feeling is mutual. But you need to make the crowd love you. They don’t possess the logic of you or me. Most were born in Unity, and this is a normal state of affairs.”

Charlie refused to give Augustus the satisfaction of conversation and gazed at a cockroach scuttling across the floor. He expected the decrepit old fool to strike him, but no blows came.

“Have it your way,” Augustus said. Outside, the crowd roared. “I’m guessing the croatoan didn’t last long. They’ll be coming for you in a minute. Time to show what you’re capable of, little wasp.”

Augustus disappeared from Charlie’s peripheral vision. The cell door slammed shut.

Shifting his manacles up, he stuffed the piece of root into his mouth and chewed. It had the texture of beef jerky, but the effects were as immediate as eating it fresh, like the sudden adrenaline rush of white-water rafting or that moment when you go over the edge while abseiling.

The cell door opened again. A blond-haired man crouched in the corridor and aimed his rifle at Charlie. The other entered and started unscrewing his right manacle. “You try any bullshit and your brains will be decorating the wall. Got it?”

Charlie ignored him, just stared right into his eyes, trying to get the measure of the man, but the other wouldn’t hold his gaze and unfastened the left manacle. He stepped back and gestured toward the corridor. “Move, grandpa. Unless you want to be dragged out like that freak?”